


i get mean when i'm nervous (like a bad dog)

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bellatrix Black Lestrange Lives, Established Relationship, F/F, Post-Canon, Post-War, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-19 09:35:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22408987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: All of these things are true about the woman she loves.That’s where it comes in, that other thing.Hermione can mostly see it in Narcissa’s eyes. There are other tells, sure, but it’s the eyes that Hermione never misses. If eyes are the window to the soul then Narcissa’s are a doorway. Narcissa keeps her expression tightly controlled at all times, she’s a private person who doesn’t like to be on display. At first Hermione could never read Narcissa’s thoughts or feelings, after a few months together, she understood. She just has to watch Narcissa’s eyes.
Relationships: Bellatrix Black Lestrange & Narcissa Black Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Comments: 7
Kudos: 272





	i get mean when i'm nervous (like a bad dog)

Hunger is a feeling she understands well. It’s not something she’s always understood, for the majority of her life the most she ever felt was a bit peckish. Her parents are well off so she never went hungry and Hogwarts fed their students with feasts. 

It’s not until she went on the run that she grew to understand the depths of hunger. 

That gnawing pain that is impossible to ignore, the way it makes a person feel shaky and hollow. She wanted food like she wanted few things, even the most disgusting things looked good to her then.

She hasn’t gone hungry since the end of the war. She never lets herself feel it again.

Narcissa understands, thankfully.

She understands it’s more than just wanting to be well fed, it’s like if Hermione doesn’t eat she’s back to staring longingly at insects. Never again.

Narcissa seems to take particular joy in making sure Hermione is always fed. Hermione’s certain it’s because Narcissa makes her eat things she’d never eat of her own volition. She can see Narcissa bite back laughter when a particular food makes Hermione wince, it’s not like she’d very subtle about it.

It’s all very much like her. It’s a kind gesture that Hermione knows is done out of care but it’s also to see her squirm. Narcissa has a sadistic streak and Hermione would be remiss not to keep it in mind. At least she has Draco. He sends her looks of comradery whenever Narcissa is on a rampage. 

It’s become as much of a joke as it is serious. 

They all joke about it. Draco and her exchange knowing looks and fearful gulps, Hermione teases Narcissa about it when she’s feeling bold, but there’s something else to it. 

It’s all a joke when Narcissa looks pleased at Hermione’s disgust or when she purposefully hides Hermione’s papers because she was paying them more attention, but it’s not always a joke. 

Hermione knows it, she sees it, but above all she never mentions it.

There’s a look in Narcissa’s eyes that turns her stomach sometimes. It’s too feral. 

Narcissa is the most composed person Hermione has ever met. There’s a certain dignity and pride she carries herself with that originally drew Hermione to her. Usually that kind of pride turns Hermione away like a stink, she knows that kind of person. The arrogant pure-blood with a superiority complex.

They’re usually the kind of people who make her life hell.

With Narcissa, she couldn’t get enough. It’s because it truly is pride and not arrogance. Narcissa knows herself. She knows what she is capable of and so few people truly know their own measure. It’s intoxicating. Everyone always says confidence is an attractive quality and Hermione has to agree. It’s what intrigued her about Fleur and Viktor and now captivates her about Narcissa. 

This isn’t to say Narcissa doesn’t have undesirable pure-blood tendencies. She looks down on muggles and Hermione knows she used to look down on muggle-borns. She doesn’t say anything negative about muggle-borns anymore and she’s in a committed relationship with one so Hermione hopes she’s outgrown that ideology. 

All in all, Narcissa is the perfect pure-blood. A lifetime of etiquette and confidence that created the woman she is now. Of course most think she’s as hard as an iceberg but that’s anything but the truth. Hermione knows Narcissa well enough to know that most people are wrong about her. She is composed but hardly shut off from the people in her life. It’s just that most people don’t matter to her. For those in her heart? She’s nothing short of raw emotion beneath her act of indifference.

All of these things are true about the woman she loves.

That’s where it comes in, that other thing.

Hermione can mostly see it in Narcissa’s eyes. There are other tells, sure, but it’s the eyes that Hermione never misses. If eyes are the window to the soul then Narcissa’s are a doorway. Narcissa keeps her expression tightly controlled at all times, she’s a private person who doesn’t like to be on display. At first Hermione could never read Narcissa’s thoughts or feelings, after a few months together, she understood. She just has to watch Narcissa’s eyes.

She isn’t sure the first time she saw it. When Lucius was murdered? When Harry formally asked Narcissa for permission to wed Draco? It was definitely there the first time they slept together. 

Her eyes darken like a storm at sea, all crashing waves and boiling danger. 

She’s learned to tread carefully when that look comes over Narcissa. Her eyes simmer dark and tighten, at least that’s how it looks to Hermione. It’s almost like the iris gets minutely thinner, a slender ghost of what it once was. 

The one time Hermione ever mentioned the mood changes and alluded to the eyes she didn’t see Narcissa for two weeks. They almost fell apart. Their relationship means too much to Hermione so she drops it, doesn’t ask again. It’s clear that it’s touchy.

“Probably a menopause thing.” Ron says through a mouthful of potatoes one day during the two week not-breakup. Ginny appropriately slaps the back of his head.

It’s not just the eyes though. 

She is usually even tempered, collected in the face of chaos. There are times where this isn’t true. There’s times where Narcissa is everything but calm. She’ll lash out and let her anger take over, usually leading to their worst arguments.

It’s late and they’re having the same fight they always do. It’s never pretty. Narcissa’s temper comes out to play and Hermione’s pride gets pulled out as a response. 

Get Bellatrix out of jail Narcissa says, how can you suggest such a thing Hermione retorts. It’s always the same just with different words to hurt each other.

Narcissa lips curls, twists into a cruel line. “She’s my sister.” She’s so angry that she’s shaking, Hermione understands. Hermione doesn’t shake or lash out when she’s angry, not anymore if she ever did. She just shuts down, closes herself off from Narcissa. Besides, Narcissa reacts enough for the both of them. As if Narcissa can hear her inner thoughts, her eyes narrow dangerously.

It’s a combination to see. The twist of her lips too wild, a sneer with a bite to it, and those eyes. “Your psychotic sister who tortured me and was Voldemort’s second in command, among other things.” Bad decision. She knows immediately she should have left the last part out. She can’t help it sometimes. Narcissa’s anger draws out her pettiness and they clash. 

“I didn’t think you were the kind of person who judges another for their relationships.” Narcissa snaps out, the air crackling between them. 

“Why, because I’m the poor muggle-born in a relationship with a pure-blood? That somehow means I should understand Bellatrix’s perverse relationship to him?” She throws back. She should be spitting angry because it’s exactly what Narcissa meant. She just can’t dredge up the anger. Sometimes it feels like a day can’t go by without being reminded of their difference. At least it’s usually not Narcissa who throws it at her. Narcissa’s shoulders droop, her demeanor softening, she realizes she overstepped. 

“That’s not what I intended. I’m sorry, darling.” Narcissa apologizes, leaning forward to cover Hermione’s hands with her own. 

“We’ll never agree on this. Why do we keep fighting about it?” Hermione asks tiredly.

“I won’t give up on her.” Narcissa replies. It’s a strong statement but there’s a hint of exhaustion to her words. She has to be tired of this repetitive argument too. 

It comes out in those ways. Fights with Hermione, fights with people who threaten her standing or family, sometimes when she’s hungry, but always when it comes to matters of the flesh. 

Hermione isn’t sure what she expected Narcissa to be like as a lover. She is after all a woman who prides herself on composure and still admonishes her grown son over his manners. Hermione should have guessed by how much she cares for people that her love would be deep and passionate.

It still manages to surprise her. 

Narcissa gets that look in bed. Dark, dangerous, and terribly attractive. It makes their routine fights a bit exciting for Hermione at least, although she’d never tell Narcissa as much.

The first time Hermione had been surprised but that’s long in the past. They’ve settled into a rhythm. 

She isn’t surprised by how Narcissa drags her teeth along her skin, almost like she’s desperate to break the skin. Hermione offered once and Narcissa flinched, Hermione didn’t offer again. She knows it’s what Narcissa wants, she can feel the way Narcissa can hardly keep herself in check. Hermione isn’t sure what’s stopping her from doing it when she has Hermione’s permission but she doesn’t want to see that wounded expression on Narcissa’s face again.

It’s the same with her nails. She drags them down Hermione’s back or dig them into her thighs but she’s so careful not to break the skin. 

As long as Hermione has known her, she’s only ever known Narcissa to enjoy fighting and winning. She thrives in victory but even more so in the defeat of her opponent. It’s in a million different ways. Someone dares enter her in a game of words and she publicly humiliates them. Rarely does anyone challenge her to a duel but when they do it’s a fool's errand. Even the smallest victories brings a smug smile to Narcissa’s lips. One time she’d gotten her way over the jumper Hermione chose to wear to work and she had to add a scarf to hide Narcissa’s appreciation.

That’s the part that didn’t come as too much of a surprise. She almost expected it. Narcissa takes charge in every aspect of her life, why should it be any different during sex? 

Hermione just doesn’t understand the need Narcissa has for it. She needs the teeth and control but she never explains it and never really fulfills whatever desire it is that’s running through her head.

It’s maddening in its own way. 

Narcissa is like a shark on the cusp of a breach. She’s full of explosive power and want, a violence urging her closer to the surface, but she never emerges. Instead she propels just below the surface. If she were a shark, her fin would be out and alerting Hermione to imminent danger.

She forgets trying to understand it all.

At first it intrigued her, some unknown factor to a new relationship. They aren’t a new relationship anymore. They’re years along and it’s just become a fact of Narcissa. Sometimes she gets aggressive, more so than her personality belies. 

They’re grown together now. It’s just what happens in relationships. They spend most of their time together, they tell each other about their days, they prioritize one another, but they don’t live together. 

Her friends think it’s odd. Ron never fails to bring it up and even Harry finds it off. Draco always stays silent. In his defense, Hermione wouldn’t want to talk about her mother’s love life either. 

She hates that she finds it weird too. She wants to be content but they’ve been together for years. Despite that, Narcissa has made it extremely clear they’re not to live together. Hermione’s made it clear she thinks that’s bonkers. 

Another stalemate.

“You’re thinking hard today.” In the beginning of their relationship, there's no way Narcissa would have been so at ease. She’s teasing Hermione in broad daylight in the middle of a market. She’s even holding Hermione’s arm. As brutal as their fights are, they’re happy most of the time. Hermione thinks she’s more than happy, most of the time.

“You always think I think too hard.” Hermione replies, a small smile at the way Narcissa weaves them between the crowds. 

Narcissa’s sole focus is on her at all times, it’s like Hermione’s the only thing that matters to her. She doesn’t pay the crowd any mind, she avoids bodies out of instinct and skill. She doesn’t even look around the stalls when they came here to shop. Having someone care so much, be so devoted, never fails to make Hermione feel special. It’s not like the way others try to make her feel special with awards and favors. Those actions could never make her feel special, they’re all fake gestures just to gain favor. She doesn’t think Narcissa is even aware that she looks at Hermione like she’s the only person in the whole world. 

“I’m always right too.” Narcissa replies, stopping them by one of Hermione’s favorite stalls. 

Coming to Krea has become a habit for the two of them. Sometime last year Hermione burst into Narcissa’s greenhouse all but jumping up and down. She’d been working in the Department of Magical Creatures for years by then but it was the first time she heard of Krea. She ranted and rambled about it near half an hour before Narcissa threw a clump of dirt at her and told her they’d go the next day.

It is everything she had hoped it would be.

They still go every other week together. Hermione wants to spend her money in places that benefit creatures so she solely buys from them. Narcissa even sends Kreacher here when they need groceries. One day she’ll get houselves broken out of their brainwashed captivity, until then all she can do is be kind. Even to Kreacher who she still has mixed feelings about. Narcissa almost dotes on him. 

They make a day of it. They get a meal together and then walk around Krea. It’s always Hermione’s favorite day of the week. Walking alongside Narcissa, just talking for hours, how could it be anything else?

Hermione’s eyes scour the stall, looking for new products. The wizarding world barely sells books by magical creatures. The only books she can find in the stores are those by the most notable of magical creatures. What good does that do her? She knows the history of literature, the nature of the ignored and silenced author. There are many great authors acknowledged now that were once subdued for their differences. 

She buys out all books and novellas she doesn’t yet have every time she comes to Krea. She wants to know what they have to say now, not in a hundred years when the wizarding community gets their heads out of their asses. 

“Sometimes I worry I should be jealous of the way you look at books.” Narcissa’s lips flicker as she fights to control her smile.

Hermione picks up a manuscript she doesn’t recognize and passes the money over to the bookseller who knows her by now. “You’re one to talk.” Hermione snorts at Narcissa affronted expression.

“What exactly does that mean?”

“You hold conversations with your plants. You’re throwing stones in a glass greenhouse.” 

Narcissa’s eyes narrow at her. “Oh, I’ll be throwing stones soon enough.” 

“You’d bully the woman who knows where you keep your diary?” 

Narcissa’s eyebrow quirks and her lips twist into a devious smile, a few people around them shoot worried looks her way. “You assume I wouldn’t say anything I wrote in there to people’s faces. If someone dresses like they stole the curtains of an eighty year old muggle woman that’s their own fault and they deserve to be told as much.” Hermione finds herself laughing halfway through Narcissa’s statement, knowing she would tell someone that. She can imagine it, she’s sure she’s seen it happen to some degree already. “And the other thing…” Narcissa’s voice drops and Hermione abruptly stops laughing. Narcissa rubs her thumb against Hermione’s side where their arms are tucked together. “I’m not ashamed of anything between us.” Although Hermione’s sure Narcissa started it as another way to tease her, an innuendo meant to fluster her, it comes across much too soft.

“That’s good, if you were ashamed of me I’d have to go seduce Andy and no one wants to see that.” Narcissa pinches her side and looks more than a little green.

“Please never say such a terrible thing.”

Hermione grins broadly, happier than she’s ever been in the rays of the sun and the soothing noise of the crowd. “Why not? I heard she has a thing for us muggle-borns.” Hermione bites her tongue, trapping it between her teeth.

She doubts she’s ever seen Narcissa look so offended and put out. “You’d get back at me with my sister of all people?” 

“I’ve always been fond of older women, she’s your older sister right?” 

Narcissa doesn’t look at her for the next hour and she sleeps on the couch. It’s worth it for the look the sound that came from Narcissa’s throat and the way she looked at Hermione like she wished she could kill her in the middle of the plaza. 

Hermione laughed intermittently for the rest of the day which only served to worsen Narcissa’s wrath. 

Her life became a living hell for the next week.

Hermione will go to the grave saying it’s worth it. 

Draco doesn’t agree when he gets backlash of the drama.

Life is kind of great, Narcissa’s refusal to move in together aside. 

Life is a funny thing, it never lets her be happy for too long. 

Note to future self, don’t wander around at night. Who’d have thought her mother would be right so many years later? All the bad things wait in the dark of night. 

Recently, there’s been a spree of fairy disappearances and their fields have been suffering damages. That’s why she’s here, a little after midnight, waiting to see if the perpetrator comes again. 

The fields are beautiful. If they were hers she’d be upset someone’s destroying them too, hell she’s upset even when they aren’t hers. 

The grass moves even though there isn’t any wind. It’s a near translucent seafoam color, the plants and trees range in colors of blue but have the same slightly see through effect. Everything begins a darker color near the roots but lightens as it grows out, the tips so light a blue that they’re almost white. Some of the bushes have a purple quality to them. It’s an alien experience, sitting in the domain of magical creatures. Even the moon hangs in the sky slightly differently.

It’s full and round but more so, like the field amplifies it. It looks close and if she were a different kind of person, she would muse she could almost pluck it from the night sky. Instead, she admires the way it affects the flora. Narcissa would love this place. 

Even in the middle of a case, in one of the prettiest places she’s ever been, her mind wanders to Narcissa.

It takes her a second too long to hear it.

Snap.

She’s turning to the sound just as the inhuman growl splits across the field, everything falls silent. It’s on her in moments. Her quick reflexes save her from getting her head taken clean off. She pulls her wand free and throws a hex at the approaching figure. Werewolf, she notes. She’s never forgotten what Remus looked like when he changed, nor the fear from trying to survive him.

The werewolf’s huffing and lunging at her again, its focus is clearly on her. 

She can’t make out its characteristics. It’s too dark, the only light is the pale blue emanating from the plants around them. All she knows is it’s big and likely wanting to take a chunk out of her. 

She tries stunning it but she’s fighting a little off, it has the advantage of size and intent. She doesn’t want to kill it but it seems set on killing her. 

Her spells miss at its erratic movements and it’s not like she has anywhere to run. It’s upon her again and she can’t turn to run, she doesn’t have the time. She can’t stop it as she’s fighting. She needs to kill it if she wants to survive but her conscience pangs. How many werewolves have talked to her about the discrimination they face? How many untrained wolves have told her about their fear of breaking free from the cages and killing or being killed? She has no way of knowing whether this is an unlucky werewolf who broke out of its cage or a malicious one.

She’s always been good at making decisions, especially hard ones. She needs to live. She can help more magical creatures by surviving. The bottomline is she wants to live, her survival instinct kicks in.

Just a moment too late.

She feels it the first time, before everything starts getting choppy with pain and blood loss.

Its teeth tear into her arm, breaking and crunching the bones beneath it. The power of its bite and jaw is staggering, nearly bringing her to her knees. She quickly sends a fire spell at its stomach, its matted fur lights up. The howl that erupts from it hurts her ears. It loses its grip in her arm and she backs away as soon as she’s free.

It follows her. Its snubbed snout bites again, claiming her hip just as painfully. She feels its teeth bury into her hipbone before it gives under the pressure. She screams at the pain just as the werewolf howls again in pain. It flinches away from her, falling to the ground to put out the flames. She falls too, unable to support her own weight.

There’s blood everywhere, all around her. She isn’t sure if there’s any still in her.

The werewolf can’t seem to put out the flames and its howls grow more desperate and broken, it doesn’t even look back at her before it runs. Her vision is blurred but she sees it turn and run, she sees it disappear. She knows there’s a lake in that direction, it seems the werewolf figured out only water would put out that flame. 

A melodic hum fills the air. 

A fairy song, for her. 

She can’t get up and all she can think about is how there’s a rock pressing between her shoulder blades. 

The moon hangs ominously above her. It looking at her, ready to claim her. 

The song reaches a crescendo when it starts. A snap of a rib, the sound of her flesh ripping. Her hip and arm are screaming in protest, bones unwilling to be moved. The moon waits for no one and the wolf must come out. The bones eventually figure that out and morph.

Her screams grow and the fairies song changes with it, singing with it. When her scream quiet so does the song, when they pick up so do the fairies.

It’s as morbid as it is lovely. 

Somehow she knows she’ll never forget the sound, even as the wolf starts wrestling away her awareness and control. 

It’ll always run through her head. She’ll be shopping and she’ll hear it, she’ll be sleeping and she’ll hear it, she’ll be laughing with Narcissa and hear it.

Narcissa…

As she slips away the fairies stop singing as if they can tell, as if they were singing just for her.

The field falls silent.

A howl to the moon.

She doesn’t know where she is or what she drank last night. That’s her first thought, she got smashed with Ron and Harry. She quickly remembers the previous night and she sits up straight in a meadow, not the one she was in before. This one is human, possibly muggle, she can’t tell. 

She looks around and sees that she's actually in a park, luckily there’s no one near to see her in such a state. She notes the street sign and is quick to apparate back to her flat. Hers, not Narcissa’s. 

Fear explodes in her chest. Narcissa can’t see her like this, she can’t know.

She stumbles when she lands in her bathroom, the tile cold against her bare feet. 

She takes stock of herself.

She’s covered in blood, it’s dried all over her. Her hair is clumped with it. She grips onto the sink and tries to breath, finding her center. It’s not easy. It feels like she has no control over her emotions. Her control is paper thin and her emotions are battling to be let out. She can feel the wolf right below her skin

She turns the shower on as hot as it will go and steps in, burning away the previous night. 

Her arm and hip are scarred over but they’re red and angry. They smart if she twists or moves too quick. Overall, what she’d expect after a night like she had.

It’s the taste in her mouth she can’t cope with. Flesh, bone, viscera. Somehow she knows exactly what it is.

Human.

Her fist is through the shower wall and a growl erupts from her chest before she can stop herself. It’s too close to the surface. How did Remus ever manage this? She chokes back a sob, not letting it out. She can’t do that yet. 

She goes to work that day. She breaks two mugs, six quills, and one desk. She almost breaks a few coworker’s faces but is able to restrain herself at the last second. She decides to work away from the office. 

The next few days change things.

She’s reacquainted with hunger. It’s like her stomach has a hole in it that she can’t satisfy. She was okay just after transforming but she gets worse everyday. That’s when she makes the connection. She can smell people, hear their heartbeats, practically taste them. It slowly takes over her mind, driving her up a wall. It’s all she can think about. She met with Ginny for lunch and all she could think while eating her burger was how Ginny would make a good lunch. 

She can’t self regulate and that hits her the hardest. She’s not the kind of person to lash out or go on the aggressive, she’s more discreet than that. She just can’t stop herself from saying or doing things she wouldn’t have before. 

Ron makes a crude joke she doesn’t like and instead of giving him an admonishing glare like she usually would she almost breaks his shoulder with a punch. She apologizes profusely and he laughs it off, saying she’s stronger than he thought. 

That’s when it really sets in, her resolve strengthens.

She’s been avoiding Narcissa since it happened to sort herself out, not wanting to expose Narcissa to this mess. She also lost her phone during her transformation and has to get a new one. That’s usually how they communicate, Narcissa is freakishly good at muggle technology and picked up texting easily enough. 

Narcissa has sent a few owls to Hermione’s flat but she’s either not been home or hasn’t let them deliver the letters. 

It’s almost breaking Ron’s shoulder over a joke that makes her sure she can’t see Narcissa until she has this under control.

She buys a house and doesn’t go back to her flat. She makes sure the house has a basement and renovates from there. For the first time, she’s truly grateful for the money she got after the war as it makes everything possible. 

She builds herself the best cage she can and pays the workers for their discretion. They’re from Krea and they know her. They refuse the extra money at first, understanding the need for discretion but she presses the issue. Gratitude instead of hush money. They tell her that Narcissa’s been around Krea looking for her and she asks them not to say anything as she gets everything sorted out. They agree but give her odds looks over it. 

She doesn’t want anyone knowing what she’s become. She doesn’t know if her war hero status would protect her job, they don’t allow werewolves in the ministry. Shacklebolt has mentioned bettering conditions for werewolves but she’s yet to see real change. It’s one thing for them to give a moving speech at Remus’ funeral and another to actually change anything.

Even Voldemort treated werewolves as less. He made Fenrir important in his ranks, sure. He treated werewolves slightly better than the rest, sure. He still considered them less, he still wouldn’t let Fenrir take the mark. 

In the end, she now has a house and a werewolf proof basement. 

She hopes. 

She’ll be able to test it come next moon. 

It’s a few days before the moon when she picks up a new phone.

There’s a barrage of notifications waiting for her from everyone in her life. She goes straight to her message thread with Narcissa.

Narcissa: Can you pick up something to eat on your way?  
Narcissa: Have you left yet?  
Narcissa: Darling, need I remind you I hate being “left on read”.   
Narcissa: Draco has informed me that you have not read. Where are you?  
Narcissa: I’m getting worried. You never take this long to answer. If you need some time alone, let me know, I just want to know you’re safe.   
Narcissa: Please be okay.  
Narcissa: Draco says you’re alive and that your friends have seen you. I’m back to being cross.  
Narcissa: Damnit, Hermione. What’s wrong? Talk to me.  
Narcissa: Harry told Draco that there’s something off about you recently. I’m back to being worried. I’ll be worried and angry to cover all the bases, as it were.  
Narcissa: Now they’re saying you’re avoiding them too. Why are you isolating yourself? Harry said you aren’t working in the office either.  
Narcissa: I went to your place, it’s empty. You haven’t been living there. Where are you? What’s going on with you? I’m worried sick, please respond.

Hermione groans and cracks a knuckle, trying to keep in some of her energy. She needs to keep herself away from Narcissa, she knows that much, but she can’t just cut Narcissa off like this. It breaks her heart reading those messages, seeing her worry. That’s not what she wants to do to the person she cares about and loves dearly. She can’t be swayed, either. 

As it is, she can already feel the moon pulling to her. She actually punched someone yesterday. He grabbed at the waitress and next thing she knew she was breaking someone’s nose. 

If she ever hurt Narcissa she’d never forgive herself.

She knows she is hurting her with the distance, and if she does reach out she knows she’ll hurt Narcissa more, but there’s a difference. 

There’s more texts but she switches over to voicemail, putting it on speaker. There’s three from Narcissa, she listens to the newest one.

_It’s almost been a month, I’m terrified. I don’t know what happened but it has to be bad. Harry is worried out of his mind, even Ron looks like he’s using his brain for once. That’s...that’s not fair. He cares and he’s doing his best to comfort me. He’s the last person I expected that from, he’s grown up. I still don’t like the way he looks at you but I think that may be more of my own issues, the idea of you with someone else has become unpalatable. Fleur, on the other hand, is ready to assemble her clan- do veela have clans? Regardless, she’s almost as out of her mind as I am. I think she is stuck in the past, she remembers the last time you...anyways, you have an unfortunate habit of befriending your exes. I’m waiting for Viktor to call me. More importantly, I’m waiting for you to call me. Or text me. Owl me. Leave me a message on the doorsteps...anything really. I’ve tried just about everything. I’m this close to writing your name in the stars. Ron suggested I rent one of those planes to fly a message, he said it’s tacky enough you’d come out of hiding to lecture us. I...I miss you. Please._

Hermione feels like proper shit by the time the message ends. 

Hermione: hey

Narcissa: Hey?  
Narcissa: I worry for weeks and you send “hey”?

Hermione: I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. I should have gotten a new phone sooner.

Narcissa: A new phone?

Hermione: Yeah, lost my last one. Just got a new one today.

Narcissa: Why did you move out? Why aren’t you going to work? Hermione, what’s going on?

She could lie, something to throw her off. She won’t. The last thing Narcissa deserves is lies. She isn’t going to come out with the truth either. She holds a careful balance of lies but both ends of the scale make her a terrible person.

Hermione: I can’t tell you everything. Something bad happened. You’re right about that. I just can’t talk about it. 

Narcissa: When are you coming back? When can I see you?

Hermione fights the sting in her eyes, looking out at the setting sun instead of the message she doesn’t want to answer.

Hermione: Not for a while, I don’t know when.

Narcissa: Call me. 

Hermione freezes. She can’t do this over the phone, there’s no way. Narcissa knows her better than anyone, she’ll hear everything in her voice. She can’t hear Narcissa’s voice. What if it crumples her resolve? She needs to stay away from Narcissa for her own safety but if she asks Hermione to come home? She would. Narcissa is her home and she doesn’t want to let her go.

Her phone starts vibrating and the screen shows Narcissa as the caller. It seems she got tired of waiting. 

She shouldn’t pick it up. 

There’s no way in hell she’ll ever let Narcissa ring out. 

“Hermione?” Hermione sighs at the sound of Narcissa’s voice. She hasn’t heard it in so long, longer than she’s ever gone since they got together. 

“Narcissa.”

A choked sound crackles from the other end and Hermione’s heart throbs. Narcissa doesn’t make choked noises. What else is she responsible for? “Why aren’t you coming back?”

“I just can’t.” 

“Darling, this is your home.” It’s Hermione’s turn to make an awful noise, Narcissa stops what Hermione is sure was about to be a long argument. “You do know that, don’t you? I know we’ve fought over living together but it’s not because of you or us. I have my reasons for why but it’s never been you.” 

Hermione hates that the sniff coming from her end signals that she’s already crying. She can get through being turned into a werewolf without crying but Narcissa desperate to reassure her? She’s a goner. 

“I know, Merlin I know. I love you so much, Narcissa. I just can’t come back, not for a while.”

“When?”

“I don’t know. Probably not for some time.” Hermione’s voice breaks over the line and she hears Narcissa take in a deep breath.

“Right well, I suppose with calls and the like we can figure this out.” Narcissa knows. Hermione knows Narcissa knows.

“Narcissa-”

“Don’t.”

“You know-”

“I don’t know anything. If you don’t say it, you don’t say anything, we can just keep texting and calling until you’re back.”

“It’s not fair. I don’t know how long I’m going to be gone. I would be the worst girlfriend in the world if I kept you on the line like this.”

“Is there someone else?”

“No.”

“There’s no one else for me, ever. I can wait.” Narcissa doesn’t sound like she’s letting Hermione have any room in the decision.

“It’s not-”

“I don’t care about fair! I care about you. You don’t want to end us, do you?” 

She almost lies. “No.”

“I don’t care about fair, darling. I’ll wait while you do what you need to do. You don’t get to control what I want or need. I want to wait and I need you. So long as you’re still in this, so am I.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. I’m also going to find the most painful way to greet you when you get back.” There’s that streak of sadism again, she can practically see the way Narcissa’s lips would curl with glee. 

They do keep in contact but they also know it’s not the same. Something is off in the relationship. Narcissa doesn’t ask what’s wrong again, maybe stifled by her own secrets. 

The first, technically second, moon passes by without fanfare. The cage holds. 

She keeps up work and no one questions her about working at home. She still puts in the work, even goes out on fieldwork, she just doesn’t go to the ministry. 

She starts investigating werewolf sightings and cataloging known werewolves. She wants to find it. It either needs help since it's unaware, which admittedly so is she, or it was aware. If it was aware and it did that to her on purpose, no god could save it. She isn’t sure if it’s her wolf that’d demand revenge or her, it might be the only time they’d be in agreement. 

The second moon passes just as easily. As easily as one can when their body breaks and tears into something different. She could dose herself with wolfsbane and sleep through the night but she wants control over it. Werewolves only gain control through hard work and avoiding wolfsbane. 

Narcissa and her aren’t the same. It hurts. It’s expected. Hermione misses her every day. She just wants to go back but earlier this month she got so angry she transformed before the moon was full, only by luck and determination did she hold on until she was locked in the cage. 

She can’t go back. If she transformed and attacked Narcissa? Ate her? She wouldn’t survive it. 

It’s just before the fifth moon when she goes back to the field.

Her breathing is heavy by the time she reaches the field and not from exertion. It’s the nerves of being there again. She still hears the howls and the snap of her bones, she feels nauseous at the memory. What she sees steals her breath away in the worst way.

It’s ruined, at least most of it. 

The places where her spells landed have turned an ugly shade of red but it’s where she fell that’s the worst. It’s a scar of black and greys, a trail where she must have left as a wolf. She can make out where the other werewolf’s body fell before running away.

Death steals the color and life from the fairies’ fields. 

She recalls the similar fields she’d examined at the beginning of the case and realizes the truth. 

The werewolf has salted their fields with the corpses of fairies. 

It’s too planned for an unaware werewolf. 

It was aware and in control the whole time. 

So why did it slaughter the fairies? Why did it attack her? 

It was intentional. 

It took everything from her, everything! She can’t be near her friends for long periods of time, she can’t even really talk to people. She’s angry all the time and even hungrier. She’s so hungry that friends started to look like food. All she wants to do is fight and eat, that’s what she’s been reduced to. 

She can’t even be with Narcissa. She can’t hold her. She can’t touch her. All she can do is talk through a crackling phone that does nothing to capture the real pitch in Narcissa’s laughter, the way her voice dips just slightly when she teases Hermione, it isn’t the same.

It took Narcissa from her!

Snap.

Her heart stops for a moment, fear taking over her mind. She thinks it’s back, the snap too familiar. Then rage and anger takes over, the thirst for revenge. 

She realizes the snap came from her.

The fairies are singing again. No, this can’t happen here. 

Pop. 

A groan escapes her lips as her back twists uncomfortably, her skin already splitting along her shoulders. She can’t transform out here. She can’t apparate, she’ll splinch herself. It might be better than eating someone.

When her face feels like it cracks open and begins extending into a snout, she curses.

She won’t make it to the cage. 

She smells Narcissa, smells the manor, even from this distance.

No!

Narcissa is her home.

Her body, her wolf, knows that better than anyone. 

Her wolf doesn’t need an address, it just runs off scents.

She tries to stay, tries to keep aware. She lasts longer into the transformation than ever before but in the end, she falls to blackness. 

She wakes up to pain, she hurts over every inch of her body. She groans pitifully. She’s warm, incredibly warm. She feel the tackiness of blood, tastes the remnants of iron. 

Narcissa!

“Narcissa!” Hermione shoots up, heart racing. She didn’t kill Narcissa, she might die of heartbreak if she did. She looks around and notices she’s in Narcissa’s bed, their bed. 

Fuckfuckfuck, there’s no way if Narcissa was okay she’d let Hermione into their sheets covered in blood.

Narcissa’s not okay. 

Hermione got out of bed, tripping on the sheets as she tries to hurry. She throws on a hoodie she knows is hers. The fact the hoodie is just out and smells like Narcissa hurts. Everything hurts. She’s surrounded by Narcissa and she killed her. She killed her.

“Are you done yet?” Narcissa asks unimpressed, leaning against the doorframe and brushing her teeth. Hermione stares at her. “I’ll take that as a no.” Narcissa rolls her eyes and turns to spit her toothpaste out. If Hermione could make her brain catch up she’d make a comment about how undignified rolling eyes is.

“You’re alive.”

“Obviously.”

“I didn’t kill you.”

Narcissa walks back in, a cutting comment ready on her tongue, but drops it when she sees Hermione’s expression. “Oh.” Narcissa walks across the bedroom and pulls Hermione into a tight embrace. “No, of course you didn’t. That’s why you didn’t come back, isn't it? You thought you’d hurt me. Stupid lion, you’re supposed to be a wolf now.”

Hermione can’t help it, it’s been months of longing and the overwhelming fear of hurting the person she loves. She buries her face into Narcissa shoulder and sobs. Narcissa keeps running a hand down her back, soothing her. Narcissa sits them on the bed and holds onto her. 

“How?” Hermione asks, voice rough from tears.

“How what?” 

“I didn’t have control, I don’t how come I didn’t kill you?”

Narcissa pulls away, a conflicted look flashing across her face. “I think we’ve both been idiots.” Narcissa murmurs with a look of regret. Narcissa draws the neck of her robe away from her throat, Hermione tries to control the wolf. She hates that its first desire is to bite, to sink her teeth in and not let go. Narcissa looks a bit too knowing.

“I don’t understand.”

Narcissa picks up her wand and presses it to her throat, a murmur of words and-

She’s seen Narcissa naked many times in her life but she’s never seen that. At first she thinks it was her, that she infected Narcissa last night. She notes that although it’s by no means a pretty scar it isn’t red like her. It’s old, likely very old.

She knows spells like that, she knows how taxing it would be too keep it up all the time. She’s seen Narcissa duel and perform spells with ease. Just how powerful is Narcissa Black?

“This whole time?” She doesn’t mean for the hurt to be so audible, she doesn’t want to be so transparent. 

“Yes.”

Why didn’t she tell her?

Who did it? 

How long ago?

How did she keep it off the registries?

Narcissa nods and looks away. “I’m sorry, I know you must be surprised.”

Except she isn’t. Oh she is blindsided, downright shocked, but she isn’t surprised. It was so obvious. How did she not notice? It’s almost embarrassing. She clocked Remus quick, less than a year. She’s been with Narcissa for years and she never put it all together. She feels a bit stupid. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out.”

Narcissa even smells different now. She’s found that magical creatures smell different than humans. They each have an undertone of something. Narcissa smells like the woods, like a wolf on the prowl. 

“We don’t see what we don’t want to.” Narcissa sounds so forlorn it causes Hermione to jostle her.

“I wouldn’t have said anything about it. I literally work in the Department of Magical Creatures. We go to Krea regularly!” Indignation turns an ugly head.

“Hermione, we don’t know people until it’s too late. You’re new to being a werewolf, you haven’t experienced the extent of people’s hate. The people you love, the people you think you know, turn against you. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I’d try to, sometimes I’d open my mouth to say it but nothing came out.” Narcissa sounds so wrecked Hermione winces at her insensitivity. 

“I understand.” She did. She didn’t want anyone to know after all. She knows what magical creatures face. She knows she could lose friends over this, probably her job. Then her mind gets caught on one detail and that damnable anger she can’t control gets the better of her. “Who was it that hurt you?” 

Narcissa looks shocked for a moment before laughing. “You’re so irritable. I’m so used to you being the controlled one, this will be a nice change of pace. Fenrir turned me when I was younger. He was in a rage and didn’t notice he was biting a Black. That decision haunted him the rest of his life. Bella never let him live it down, she would have tortured him to death had Voldemort not forbidden it. He had to bow to her wishes and not mark him, he punished Fenrir as much as he dares. He played a precarious game keeping both Bella and Fenrir in check. Besides, I have Fenrir’s pack under my thumb now so in the end I won.”

Hearing Bellatrix and torture in the same sentence is almost enough to send her back over the edge but she clarifies. “I meant the person close to you. It wasn’t Bellatrix?” 

Narcissa shifts at the way Hermione spits out Bellatrix’s name, tied between loyalties. She hates that Bellatrix tortured Hermione but she’s always been loyal to Bellatrix. “Bella was one of the few people, if not the only person to truly accept it. Not just accept it happened but accept me, support me. You won’t run off and do something stupid if I tell you.” It’s not a question but she still waits for Hermione’s answer.

“Fine.” If she transforms and hunts that person down, well, it’s not like that’s her fault.

“Dromeda wasn’t a fan of my nature. She had some cutting remarks about it all. It didn’t help when it was all so fresh. I think had she not been so opposed to me, Bella wouldn’t have made such a fuss about her running off with Ted. She would have hated it but in the end, Dromeda is her sister. Instead, Bella cut her off and made her a pariah. She always was particularly protective of me.” 

The Bellatrix part makes sense, a lot of it. She thought it was weird how loyal Narcissa was to Bellatrix after everything. Bellatrix was one of the worst Death Eaters and responsible for many crimes. Being Narcissa’s only supporter? Her protector? In a world set against her, of course Narcissa is willing to still defend her sister.

The Andromeda part shakes her. Andromeda eats family meals with them, she talks about parenting with Narcissa, they’re friendly. “I don’t understand, you and Andromeda seem close. She seems kind, how does someone like that ostracize their sister?”

“How did Bella and I ostracize her? Sometimes, our worst overcomes us. I doubt I’ll ever fully trust her but we’ve mended bridges. It turns out when your werewolf son-in-law dies alongside your daughter, you rethink some things.” Narcissa sounds like she’s above it all but considering how Andromeda treated her still leaves Narcissa with open wounds, Hermione knows that’s not the case. She doubts she’ll ever look at Andromeda the same. 

“It’s probably a good idea that her and I aren’t in a room together for a while.” Hermione isn’t kidding but Narcissa laughs.

“I’m sure you’d be fearsome.” Narcissa is definitely teasing her now, Hermione tries not to pout. 

“Why am I hurting, by the way?” 

Narcissa smirks and Hermione sees the wolf in her. “I did promise you our reunion would hurt.” 

Hermione’s eyes widen. “We fought?” 

“I wouldn’t consider it a fight with your poor performance.” 

“Poor performance? I’ll have you know-”

Narcissa interrupts her by dragging her into a kiss by her hoodie. “Trust me, darling, the only threat you posed was rolling on your back.”

Hermione’s more than a little offended at the comment but Narcissa is pushing her down before she can do much. Before she can retort and defend her honor Narcissa presses a hand between her legs and mouths at her throat. Hermione moans and mutters something about cheating.

She feels Narcissa drag her teeth over Hermione’s throat and knows what she wants, she can feel the desire pouring out of Narcissa. “Do it.” Narcissa groans and grinds down on Hermione’s leg. “You didn’t before because you didn’t want to change me or partially change me, right? I’m changed. You can do it.” 

Narcissa whips her hoodie off and kisses her until she can hardly breathe. “Not your throat, too visible.” Narcissa looks over her body before falling to the scars on her arm and hip. Narcissa makes a distressed sound and runs a finger over her hip. “It bit you twice?” Narcissa looks like she’s about to storm out of here and hunt the werewolf down herself. Hermione just shrugs helplessly and Narcissa lowers herself, scraping over her hip with her teeth. She sends Hermione a questioning look, waiting for Hermione’s consent, which she readily gives.

Narcissa spends the first night marking over the werewolf’s bites.

She doesn’t let Hermione touch her. She moves away from Hermione when her fingers graze Narcissa’s stomach as she tries to untie the robe. 

It won’t be the last time.

Narcissa takes it upon herself to teach Hermione all the basics that she hadn’t already learned. Mostly Narcissa focuses on teaching her to control her transformations and her emotions.

She goes back to the office a moon later and she only breaks one mug. It’s okay, it was an ugly mug. 

She sees Andromeda talking to Narcissa one day and something twists, Narcissa shoots her a look and tells Andromeda to apparate away. 

That’s how Andromeda learns Hermione is a werewolf and it’s best to avoid her for the time being.

Narcissa takes her to Krea the next day and doesn’t stop smiling the whole time. Sometimes even mentioning Andromeda and then laughing to herself.

It takes her seven more moons to stay aware.

Somewhere along the line she notices she hasn’t seen Narcissa naked since they reunited. She isn’t sure what it means. 

“You did it.” Narcissa looks so proud something in Hermione feels red hot. She did it, it took awhile but she did it. 

They’re good for a while, understanding each other’s tempers better now that they both know the other’s struggles with control. 

It always comes back around to Bellatrix. Free her, damn her. 

Narcissa is in a state this time, Hermione’s certain her body’s going to be dropped at the bottom of a lake by the end of the night. That’s not what happens. Instead, Narcissa cries and Hermione leaves. 

Narcissa looks shocked when Hermione leaves, that’s never really been her reaction. 

It just hits her different.

She understands that the wolf influences emotional bonds too. Narcissa isn’t just the woman she loves anymore, she’s also her pack. 

She doesn’t feel that with humans, that same bond that has solidified between the two of them after several moons together. She does feel something like a packbond, a hint of one, with Harry and Ron. It’s like the wolf is letting her know should they be changed, they’d be in her pack.

She thinks it’s because it’s their first fight about this after reuniting, since she became a wolf. It’s the first time she can truly see it from Narcissa’s perspective. 

She doesn’t forgive Bellatrix. She doesn’t care for Bellatrix. She hates Bellatrix like she’ll never hate anyone else. 

Freeing her isn’t about Hermione, it’s about Narcissa

Convincing Shacklebolt to release her into Hermione and Narcissa’s care for rehabilitation isn’t about revenge even though her wolf howls for it. It’s about giving Narcissa what she needs and that’s enough to quiet the wolf. 

Bellatrix is Narcissa’s sister, her would-be-pack, and Hermione has to free her. Her skin crawls and teeth bare at the idea of Ron or Harry in that evil place.

She comes home and Narcissa lets out a breath, watching Hermione approach. Hermione puts the release form on the desk in front of Narcissa. Narcissa looks bewildered by Hermione’s behavior before looking down. She freezes, her eyes widening. 

“If she so much as-”

“I’ll kill her, if she hurts you.” Narcissa promises, eyes watery. Hermione doesn’t believe her but she’s touched nonetheless.

She still doesn’t get to touch Narcissa that night, not really. 

Narcissa lets her take off her pants, she lets Hermione bring her over the edge, but if her fingers stray to take off Narcissa’s robes or shirts she’s rebuffed. 

Bellatrix arrives a week later and shoots Hermione a devilish grin, mouth opening to make a horrible taunt, when Narcissa slams into her. Narcissa’s hugging Bellatrix like she’ll never see her again. Bellatrix closes her mouth and hugs Narcissa back.

“Fancy hallucinating you here.” Bellatrix laughs, it isn’t the ugly cackles that used to haunt Hermione every night. 

“Hallucinating already? It’s only been a few years, you’re slipping.” Narcissa replies. It’s too easy. It makes Hermione uncomfortable, more uncomfortable than she’s been in a while. It turns out she wasn’t ready to welcome her torturer into her home. 

She turns to leave, Narcissa shoots her a worried look and Hermione waves her off. She needs to leave but she doesn’t want Narcissa to suffer for it.

“I’ll be back.” Hermione says before apparating away. Narcissa doesn’t like not knowing where Hermione is since the night she disappeared. 

She gets drunk with Fleur and Bill. It’s nice. She gets to rant about Bellatrix without worrying about hurting Narcissa. She also rants about the injustice of being turned but that’s to be expected. She just wants to find the werewolf that did it. 

The universe would finally let her move in with Narcissa only to bring Bellatrix into their home afterwards. She knows she’s the one who convinced Shacklebolt but still, it sucks. 

She avoids Bellatrix as much as she can. She skips meal times knowing Narcissa and Bellatrix have them together. 

Narcissa doesn’t mention it but she does notice it.

She didn’t really expect Bellatrix to seek her out. 

Whenever they see each other, they both look the other way. She’s sure Narcissa said something to Bellatrix to make her uncharacteristically quiet. Bellatrix hasn’t looked at her with that sick smile she wore all those years ago since she got here, since Narcissa knocked the comment out of her mouth with a hug. 

“I’m not going to torture you again, you know.” Bellatrix says one day, cutting the skin off an orange with the same knife she used on Hermione. Hermione doesn’t miss the significance of that. It’s a terrible opener of a statement.

“I doubt Narcissa would allow it.” Hermione mentions Narcissa because she seems to be the only thing that curbs Bellatrix’s behavior. 

“No, she was quite stern with me actually. She threatened me! Over you! I was offended, enraged actually. I didn’t get how she could defend a mudblood over me. I was half planning to kill you that night.”

That doesn’t entirely surprise Hermione. “What changed your mind?”

“Two things. Narcissa doesn’t smile at anyone except my nephew and me, maybe Kreacher too. She looks happy with you. I vomited for an hour and then redoubled my dedication to murdering your reverse cradle-robbing hide. Then I saw Andy practically run away from you. That was worth keeping you alive.”

“I consider murdering you at least three times a day.” Hermione replies blandly.

Bellatrix actually laughs at that, it’s a bit too close to the cackle for her liking. She grins broadly at Hermione. “At least we’re consistent! What stops you?” 

“Narcissa.”

Bellatrix smiles a bit more genuinely but she still looks at Hermione like she’s an ant she wants to fry. She offers Hermione an orange slice instead. It’s mangled and lopsided. For someone who is supposed to be good with knives she’s kind of terrible. Still, she takes the olive branch and hopes it isn’t poisoned. She knows it’s too much to ask that the cretin washed her hands before. 

Bellatrix and her get better. Not in the way that they’re friends or ever will be, but they can be in a room together. They taunt each other and openly threaten to kill the other, sometimes leading to Hermione having to shift and run her energy off. Narcissa watches it all with happiness at everything going easier and worry that one of them honestly will kill the other.

“How can you still love her? I understand what she meant to you, that she’s your sister, and the packbond but she’s done terrible things. She’s not a good person.” Hermione asks, her head pillowed on Narcissa’s chest. 

“She wasn’t always like that. Voldemort took advantage of her and molded her into someone else. The Bellatrix I know and the Bellatrix who fought in the war are two different people. I know they’re the same, I know she did it all, but part of me can’t accept that. I can’t let go of who I knew. She’s still there, I know she is. I think with enough time I can find her again.”

Hermione smiles sardonically. “Rehabilitate her? Who knew I wasn’t completely lying to Shacklebolt.” Hermione opens her mouth for the follow up question but bites her tongue at the last moment.

“What is it?” 

“What are you hiding?” Hermione says in a rush, Narcissa stiffens.

“What do you mean?”

“Narcissa, don’t treat me like an idiot.” 

“You’re right.” Narcissa grumbles annoyed. She sits up and Hermione leans back, giving her room. “I just didn’t want to hurt you.” Narcissa admits, fingers falling to the buttons of her shirt.

She doesn’t want to think of it, curses the thought the moment it enters, but it’s been dancing around her mind for months. 

She burned the werewolf’s stomach.

Pale skin is revealed button by button until eventually it’s revealed. 

Long ugly claw marks marking her rib to hip, the angry scars of a mouthful of teeth pressing into Narcissa’s ribcage. They don’t look like the bites Narcissa leaves on her which are always careful. These are the wild bites of a beast with the jaw power of a canon. She’s surprised it didn’t kill Narcissa, crush a lung or something. Hermione feels sick looking at it and remembers the taste of blood when she woke up that morning.

Narcissa fingers brush against her frown. “That’s why I didn’t want to show you. I didn’t want you blaming yourself.”

“It is my fault.” Hermione had entertained the thought that Narcissa was the werewolf who turned her when it was her who did the harm all along. She feels the lick of self-hate curl in her. 

“No. I don’t want you to blame yourself or be unable to look at me. I don’t blame you. Have you ever known me not to correct you when you’ve messed up?” Narcissa raises an eyebrow in challenge.

Hermione laughs lightly at the expression but there’s still too much racing through her mind. “No, you’re exceptionally good at telling me to be better.”

“Exactly.” Narcissa kisses her gently, taking her hand and pressing it against the scars. “Are you coming with me to listen to Fenrir’s pack complain for two hours?” 

“With that salesmanship? Absolutely.”

If she wants to find the one who turned her and let her wolf loose, she knows Narcissa wouldn’t blame her. 

She didn’t expect Bellatrix would want to come along. Narcissa didn’t either. Still, she ends up along for the ride. 

“I miss terrorizing people, no one will feel bad about it if I go after them. They used to twitch so delightfully when I was around. They saw what Fenrir got and knew better.” Bellatrix sounds too excited at the prospect of hurting people but Hermione is too preoccupied thinking about the werewolf in the field. 

Narcissa wasn’t kidding, all they do for half an hour is complain. They complain so long Hermione’s brain starts to buzz with boredom. Bellatrix doesn’t look any better. Narcissa is the only one able to fake it.

She smells it then.

The fairies crescendo and she stands. 

Narcissa’s watching her every movement, the pack complains even more. They don’t like muggle-borns even if said muggle-born is a werewolf, Voldemort’s rhetoric is still going strong in them. She follows her nose, trusting the wolf. She isn’t sure when she went from hating and subduing the wolf to trusting it.

“I think you’re looking for me.” He’s tall and burly, his dark hair long and unkempt. He looks too pleased with himself for her liking. “Well come on then, pup.” He wants her to attack, he’s playing off her bloodlust. Considering how much she wants to rip him apart, it’s a solid strategy.

She’s always hungry since her transformation and he’s looking like a good guilt free meal. 

Except he wants her to attack. She refuses to mindlessly fall headfirst into a trap.

She’s too emotional right now, she can’t be sure she’d keep control and awareness if she shifted. If she attacks, she is sure other werewolves will take his side. It’s his pack, it’s his territory, and he wants to kill her.

“You lured me out. You wanted me to investigate the fairies. Why?”

“The war isn’t over just because the Dark Lord died. There are still those of us who fight for him. Isn’t that right, Bellatrix?” 

She’s expecting Bellatrix to laugh along, maybe send a curse her way. Instead, she snorts and crosses her arms. “Kill him already, muddy.” 

“Bella.” Narcissa warns her and Bellatrix shrugs unrepentant.

His neck twitches and something breaks as he starts changing, getting ready to fight her. If she fights in her wolf form there’s no guarantee she’ll be around after. She might be overwhelmed and killed, she might attack Narcissa. She’d almost certainly attack Bellatrix. 

“Avada kedavra!” 

His body hits the floor, his face frozen in surprise. The werewolves around her grumble with displeasure.

“That’s not the werewolf way!”

“The mudblood has no honor!”

“The Dark Lord was right!”

A werewolf finally has enough and lunges at her, teeth bared and mid-shift.

“Crucio!” Hermione flinches at the sound of Bellatrix calling that curse out. The werewolf attacking her drops, writhing in pain.

“Enough! Your lord died, your alpha died, your leaders are gone. You follow those weak enough to be killed. We are not weak. My pack is not weak. We will not tolerate attacks from the likes of you.” Narcissa voice cuts through the crowd, cowing even the loudest protesters. Hermione has always admired how Narcissa thrives in positions of command or when savvy is needed. They will only respond to power and werewolf politics that Hermione doesn’t care to learn. Narcissa not only has learned it, she’s mastered it.

“If you somehow forget what I’m capable of.” Bellatrix starts lazily, it doesn’t escape anyone’s notice that the werewolf is still under the cruciatus. “I wouldn’t suggest you forget what Narcissa is capable of.” Some of the werewolves around her pale at the mention of Narcissa’s wrath and Hermione understands, it’s been a while since she’s seen it but she knows it intimately. “Don’t step a foot out of line, be good dogs, and maybe pack Black won’t butcher you. We do need new rugs, Cissy. We should really consider it.”

“Go about your days as you have been, forget any dissident action, and don’t ever threaten mine again or I’ll let Bella do whatever she wants.”

It seems everyone is more or less in agreement not to follow their temporary leader to the death. 

“At least they did more than complain.” Hermione offers a sullen Narcissa later.

“That was extended complaining, an advanced level but still complaining.” Narcissa pinches between her eyes, obviously irritated at the meeting. “How do you feel?”

Hermione smiles and kisses the corner of Narcissa’s mouth. “I’m fine. I’m glad we found him so I don’t have to wonder where he is all the time.”

“How do you feel after using the killing curse?”

“It’s not the first time.” Hermione confesses, unnerved by Bellatrix excited smile. 

“You are an intriguing thing, pet. You’re lucky I’m on your side now.” Hermione takes Bellatrix for her word considering she looks at her like she wants to cut her apart and examine all her pieces. 

“Pack Black?” Narcissa asks with a tone. Hermione isn’t sure what the tone is but she definitely detects a tone.

“It has a ring to it, doesn’t it?” Bellatrix hums, pleased with herself.

“Are you saying you want to be a werewolf?” Narcissa asks, surprised.

“Why not? I don’t have a cause to follow, no one respects me so I won’t lose anything in becoming a werewolf, and it’d strengthen pack numbers.”

“Neither Hermione nor I chose this life, Bella.”

“Guess I’ll be the first, the thought gives me goosebumps.” 

“How do you feel about this, Hermione?” Narcissa asks her directly. One word from her and Narcissa would shut this all down. It’s good to know.

“I don’t care. She’s going to be around no matter what, at least she’d be useful this way.” 

“You wanna be the one to bite me, muddy? You could bite the same arm as your scar and we could be twins.” 

“If I bite you, it’d be to kill you. I don’t particularly want my mouth near you. Cissa can change you.”

“Joys.” Narcissa grumbles.

Hermione isn’t surprised in the least when Bellatrix as a werewolf is even more violent. She lets Narcissa worry about house training her. She gets a glare from Narcissa and a vendetta from Bellatrix for her efforts. The vendetta lasts a month until Hermione shifts and nearly kills Bellatrix. Bellatrix stops putting sand in all of her things after that.

The morning fog is still thick when she takes Narcissa out. Narcissa follows her and talks about Draco, she gives Hermione updates on him that she doesn’t really need. They crest the hill and she leads them deeper.

It’s a light soft blue when they reach it. She can still see the scarred land where the battle took place. She was right, Narcissa does love it. Her whole face brightens in awe at the sight of the flora.

“When did you find this?”

“It’s where I was turned.” Hermione confesses. Narcissa squeezes her hand but keeps looking around in amazement. 

She wonders if Narcissa can see the struggle as easy as she can. It’s all she can see.

“Pack Black, huh?”

“What about it? Are you wanting a way out? I’m afraid I have none to offer.”

“We’re not even married and you’re trying to get me to take your last name.” Hermione scoffs at Narcissa’s possessive qualities.

“Do you want to be?” Narcissa’s question comes out as a challenge.

“Married?”

“What else?” 

“This is how you’re asking me to marry you? It’s not very romantic.”

“You told me I looked okay a few days ago, your sense of romance is dead.”

“You didn’t even get me a ring.” Hermione swears she’s not being petty. She isn’t. 

“Are you so sure about that?” Hermione turns to look at Narcissa. Narcissa’s presenting the box with nothing short of a self satisfied smirk. She came prepared.

Hermione kisses her and lets Narcissa slide the ring on her finger.

The fairies song ushers them into their betrothal.


End file.
